Harry Finds Out
by Rtnwriter
Summary: Just a little scene from Soul Scars that was cut from the main story line. Thought you guys might get a kick out of it, or at least find it interesting how things were originally goiing to go before I changed my mind.


**Authors Notes: Hola, gang. Rotten Writer here with just a quick little something. So, in Soul Scars obviously, I have had Harry find out about the girls scars just before the start of Third Year. This little scene was meant to take place in between the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the Yule Ball. Obviously, that's not going to happen anymore. But Ifigured you all might appreciate seeing how things were originally going to play out.**

 **Keep in mind, please, there are some things that don't make sense in comparison to the actual story of Soul Scars. Example, he doesn't know the girls know about the time he tried to kill himself. Obviously some changes have occured in the actual story from what was written here since this was all written about the time I was on chapter 6 or 7 of the main story.**

 **Disclaimer: I own not Harry Potter.**

Harry Finds Out

by,

Rtnwriter

"Susan, no!" Without thinking Harry reached out, and with the closed gardening shears he was holding, he smacked the back of Susan's hand before she could touch the spine of the plant they were working with. The name escaped Harry at the time but the thing that he remembered is that the inch long, black and red spines that ran along the stalk were deadly poisonous.

"OUCH!" she cried out and turned her eyes to Harry, her hand clutched against her chest, a hurt look on her face.

Harry was oblivious to it all. He was staring at the back of his own right hand and the gash that had appeared there which bled profusely for a few seconds before it slowly closed up, right before his eyes, until it left nothing but a scar behind. Susan cursed, completely ignoring Professor Sprout telling her off for her language and just cradled her hand close, staring at Harry with a growing sense of panic in the pit of her stomach.

"H-Harry?" she stuttered uncertainly. There was no telling how he was going to react to this. They knew he tried to kill himself. He would know now that they'd known all along of that worst moment of his life. Merlin, how was he going to react?

"Soul Scars," he whispered. "I heard Emma mention that last Christmas at your Aunts. Didn't think anything of it."

"It's okay, Harry-"

"IT'S NOT OKAY!" he roared, swiping the air with one hand as if throwing something aside. "It's not okay, Susan. It's not. You get hurt, I get the scars… so if I get hurt then… you?"

She nodded, brokenly, tears stinging her eyes.

"Then… Daphne? And Hermione, too?"

She nodded again.

"All of them?"

She didn't say anything to that. She couldn't.

Without warning his hand snapped out and grabbed her left hand. Before she could even think much less react he yanked her arm toward him and pushed her sleeve up to her elbow. "Sweet Merlin," he moaned, tracing the long scar that ran up the inside of her forearm with his fingers. For a second she was sure he was going to break down into tears. Through their link terror, sorrow, rage, and the worst self loathing she had ever felt rushed through her.

"Professor Sprout?" Harry said, his voice suddenly deathly calm.

"Mister Potter?"

"I apologize for interrupting your class. Could you please treat Susan's hand and then, I apologize again, but we are going to have to leave. I need to speak with her and our other bonded. It is a matter of some importance." His eyes never left Susan's and she had to fight the urge to wince. She wasn't scared of him. She knew he would hate the very thought that she might be scared of him. But she _was_ scared. Scared for him. Scared for what this knowledge could do to him. Scared for what it could mean for them, and their relationship with him.

So lost in her thoughts was she, that she hadn't even noticed when Harry moved away or when Professor Sprout cast a few healing spells on her hand before she wrapped it in a conjured bit of clean gauze.

"This seems bad," she murmured quietly to the distraught girl. "Is everything going to be okay with you four?"

"I honestly don't know how bad it really is, Professor. But we'll work it out," Susan assured her, her words far more confident than she felt. "Don't worry about us, please."

"I always worry about my student's, Susan. And knowing you would normally have been in my house, well, I kind of see you as one of my Badgers anyway."

"He isn't going to hurt us, if that's what you're worried about. You know Harry. He'd cut off his own arm before he intentionally hurt any of us."

"Susan, let's go," Harry called from the entrance to the green house. He was standing by the door, his face completely unreadable, with both his and her bags slung over one shoulder. His face might have been unreadable, but his emotions were being broadcast to her loud and clear and when she got closer she could see that the vibrant green of his eyes had darkened considerably giving them a smokey emerald look that would normally have sent her heart racing and her stomach fluttering but now just caused a knot of lead to take up residence in her gut.

The walk across the grounds and through the halls of the castle was completed in silence until they arrived outside Gryffindor tower and he practically barked the password to the portrait hole from ten feet away, giving the portrait time to swing open before they even reached it. He barely broke stride as they stepped through and his eyes immediately began to scan the common room looking for his other bonded.

They looked up when the sound of rapid footsteps pounding down the dorm room stairs reached their ears and Hermione and Daphne came into view, both of them pelting down the steps at high speed. Susan was sure they'd noticed the same feelings bleeding through their bond that she had and when the two of them were half way down the steps they caught sight of her and Harry standing there and came to a dead stop. Susan lifted her hand, showing them the bandage. That, and the tears streaming down her cheeks that she hadn't even noticed, told the story.

Daphne and Hermione both paled, their eyes widening and Susan saw Hermione's mouth form the words, _oh, shit._ She didn't laugh, but a part of her wanted to admonish her favorite bookworm for her language.

Without saying a word Harry spun on his heel and made his way back out the still open portrait hole. "Susan," he called, a warning note in his voice, and the red head quickly waved for the other two girls to follow as she turned and scampered after Harry.

Daphne and Hermione caught up quickly, the three of them practically huddled together as they followed in Harry's wake. His robes were billowing around him, snapping in a non-existent breeze even as his hair fluttered about as if he was flying on his broom. They could feel the magic welling out of him, the tenuous grip he had on it slipping more and more the longer they walked.

None of them were quite sure how to calm him though, so they just kept following until he reached the seventh floor corridor and they stood back as he paced back and forth in front of the wall, his face a thundercloud and their own robes beginning to flutter in the eddies of power rolling off of him.

The door sprang into existence and he yanked it open, disappearing inside with the door still open behind him. They paused, looking questioningly at each other for a moment before they started to walk slowly toward the door. Before they reached it there was a thunderous bang from inside the room and they found themselves rushing forward.

The room looked like a dueling hall with a long platform running along the center of it. At one end there was a seating area with a few sofas and tables and several bookshelves filled with books. At the other end there had been a dozen target dummies.

Had been. The even dozen of them had been bunched together and reduced to piles of kindling by the massively overpowered Reducto curse that Harry had let fly from his hand. He was on his knees in the middle of the floor, breath heaving fast as if he'd just run a marathon and without looking up he waved his hand and all three of them jumped slightly when the door slammed shut behind them.

Harry stood and took several deep breaths before he turned to face them, and finally spoke for the first time in many minutes.

"Strip," he ordered.

Hermione blinked, her mouth dropping open at the commanding tone in his voice and a bit of ire started to rise in her chest but movement out of the corner of her eyes had her glancing to her left and right at Susan and Daphne to find them both already in the process of disrobing. They undid their ties and shrugged out of their robes, letting the cloth fall to the ground at their feet.

"Wha-what are-" Hermione stammered.

"Hermione, just do it. He's practically our husband, for all intents and purposes, and as far as Wizarding law goes he has the right to make such demands of us," Daphne hissed and on her other side Susan nodded.

"And you know Harry, he wouldn't just order something like this without a reason."

Hermione frowned, not pleased with the situation, but she started removing her clothes as well.

Harry stood there in front of them, his eyes closed and taking deep, even breaths. Eventually they were down to their bras and knickers and without opening his eyes he said, "bras too."

When their bras hit the ground he slowly opened his eyes, taking in the practically nude forms of the three women he'd found himself falling completely and irrevocably in love with. Hermione attempted to cover her breasts with her arms but at a sharp look from Susan she dropped her hands to her side and stood as calmly as she could as Harry's eyes slid from one of them to another. He stepped toward them and reaching out took Daphne's left hand in his and she gasped the moment their skin met.

She could feel a flood of pain, shame, self loathing, and compassion rushing through her body as he turned her arm, tracing the long scar on her forearm. Taking her shoulder in hand he gently pulled until she turned her back to him and she heard his breath catching in his throat from behind her. Her eyes slid closed as his fingers traced the many, many scars across her upper shoulders and back. He even tugged her knickers down, baring her arse briefly to see the seven inch long scar that ran under the thin piece of cloth and across her right buttock. He pulled her knickers back up, turned her and planted a kiss on her forehead before he moved on to Hermione.

Again he started with her left arm and as he touched her, Hermione gasped as well, a shudder running through her body. Instead of turning her though he touched her abdomen, tracing the ugly blemishes on his loves skin and Hermione bit back a moan when he ran a single finger tip over the long scar that ran from her left collar bone down to her navel. His fingers traced over the swell of her breast, the scar just missing her light pink nipple. Again, he planted a kiss on her forehead, just as he had with Daphne, and her eyes slowly opened. The gentle cinnamon of her eyes had darkened considerably at the feelings his touch on her body had stirred in her.

When he reached Susan she shivered at his touch on her arm and then he dropped to his knees in front of her, fingers brushing along her legs, tracing the scars that dotted her calves and thighs. With a tap of his fingers against the inside of her right ankle she flushed brightly but obediently shifted her feet, spreading her legs slightly so he could run his hand up her right thigh until he found the two inch long and inch wide scar that was almost under the edge of her knickers it rode so close to her groin.

"This one was one of the worst," he whispered. He seemed to collapse in on himself, like a house of cards falling down and he pressed his forehead against her hip, his arms coming up to wrap around her. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, using that grip to hold herself steady. They exchanged a look, all three of them practically holding their breath. He'd never spoken of his scars even though he knew they'd seen them. Some of them.

"Petunia was drunk. So where Vernon and his sister Marge. Marge was ranting something about her stupid dogs, how she'd neuter some or just drown them to prevent them ever passing on their genetics. Somehow, Vernon got the idea in his head that he needed to do something to stop me from ever breeding. 'No more freaks if the freak can't fuck' he said. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and tried to castrate me with it, but he was so drunk, he only manage to stab me before he tripped and fell against the wall, knocking himself out. When he woke up, he beat the hell out of me for the mess I'd made, bleeding on the floor."

"Merlin, Harry," Daphne breathed and she and Hermione came over, the three girls wrapping themselves around him.

"Did they hurt?"

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Hermione, did they hurt. You have all of my scars. I know how much they hurt me, but did they hurt you too?"

She shook her head. "Not really. A little bit, but then they'd seal over into scars in no time."

He started to stand and Daphne and Hermione moved back, letting him take Susan's face in his hands to plant a kiss on her forehead as he had with his other girls.

He seemed calmer, but something still wasn't right with him. The emotions rolling through him were flashing by so quickly that the girls couldn't make heads or tails of them. He waved his hand and their clothes flew off the floor and into his arms. Handing their robes to them he said, "put these on and follow me."

"But, what about our clothes?" Hermione squeaked.

"You're not going to need them for a bit. Just trust me, Hermione. Put on your robes, they'll cover you enough for where we're going, grab your shoes and let's go."

#####

"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry bellowed as the doors to the hospital wing slammed open ahead of him. "Poppy! Are you here?"

"Lord Potter!" Poppy Pomfrey snapped as she bustled her way out of her office. The disapproval in her voice had never been more obvious, and he'd been on the receiving end of her disapproval enough times that he was extremely familiar with it, but this time, instead of cringing back as he always had, he ignored her, his eyes sweeping the length of the hospital wing.

Empty.

"No patients at the moment?" he asked, sharply.

Poppy opened her mouth to snap at the young man who, she had to say, was her favorite patient, as frustrating and infuriating as he could be, but she stopped when she noticed how agitated he appeared to be. The young mans strength of will and character never ceased to amaze her. So for him to appear so frazzled and on edge worried her to some extent.

"No, Harry," she said, much more calmly than she'd originally intended. "It's been a quiet week since I last had you in one of my beds."

He waved his hand and the doors slammed shut, a loud click accompanying that as a moment later he spun and gestured to the dumbfounded girls standing in the room.

"Fix them," he snapped. Power crackled around them for a moment and there was a loud snap that rent the air as his magic flared up.

Poppy stared, wide eyed. "Lord Potter," she barked in admonishment. "I am not in the habit of taking orders from students, Lord or not and particularly not in my own hospital wing. Whatever trouble you've gotten these girls into I must say I'm ashamed at you but it is not my job to 'fix it' and frankly I am outraged you would make such a demand. I've come to expect better of you, young man."

Hermione stepped forward. "Madam Pomfrey we're not…" she flushed brightly as she forced the words out. "We're not pregnant. We haven't done anything that'd cause that. He hasn't even kissed us," she muttered the last so quietly only Daphne and Susan heard her.

"Harry," Daphne breathed and stepped into his side, wrapping her arms around him. "It's not your fault. You didn't know and there's nothing you could have done to stop it."

"It _is_ my fault," he snapped. "They're not yours! Those don't belong to you! They're mine and you should never have had to deal with it. Dammit, do you three think I'm blind or stupid?!" They flinched at his tone but immediately made to reassure him that they thought no such thing.

"I'm not blind," he muttered. "I'm not stupid. I've always noticed how you three dress. Long sleeves, high necklines and long skirts. You're always so careful to keep your bodies covered. To hide from the world. And that's my fault. They don't belong to you and you've spent years now, ashamed. Hiding yourselves because of something you had nothing to do with."

The tears had finally started and without a word Hermione and Susan joined Daphne in pressing themselves against him, wrapping their arms around him as he buried his face against Hermione's shoulder.

"I never understood why you three never bought anything more feminine when I took you shopping last summer. I saw you looking at a few outfits but they were always low cut or with high skirts. You didn't want anybody to see. You're so beautiful, all three of you. You don't deserve those ugly marks. You should be able to wear what you want. Go to the beach, wear a sundress or something without people looking at you for any reason but how beautiful you are. You shouldn't have to feel so ashamed because of me."

"Dammit, Potter," Daphne snapped and pulled back, grabbing his face with both hands and forcing him to look her in the eye. "You are such a disgustingly noble idiot that it drives me absolutely insane, sometimes. You think we're ashamed of our scars? You think we're ashamed of our bodies? We're not ashamed. We were worried about you. In Hermione's case, scars that couldn't be explained had the muggle police thinking her parents were abusing her. For Susan and I, our families knew. They knew what the scars meant and we hid them so that other people _wouldn't_ know. We hid them when we came to school so _you_ wouldn't know. We knew this is how you'd react. And we… we worried about our left arm. How you'd feel that we knew what you'd done. But we don't blame you. You're allowed to be weak sometimes, Harry. You're allowed to break down. That was your worst, but we've seen you at your best, too, and we don't think any less of you for it."

"We don't blame you, Harry," Hermione whispered in his ear. "We're not ashamed of you, or disgusted, or afraid of you. We're disgusted and afraid _for_ you. For what your relatives did to you."

"You've been hurting for years, Harry," Susan said from his other side, her breath tickling his ear. "Not just physically. Some scars can't be seen and they left a mark on you. We wanted to help you with that damage before letting you know about this."

They lapsed into silence, the girls holding him tightly for a few minutes.

"Will one of you please explain to me what is going on?" Madam Pomfrey suddenly demanded and all four of them jumped, having forgotten, momentarily, about their audience.

"Backs," he muttered, wiping at his cheeks, and all three girls nodded, stepping away to loosen their robes. With their backs to the Mediwitch they lowered their robes to their waists, ignoring the gasp that sounded behind them.

"Soul Scars," she muttered. "Merlin's beard, ladies I never thought… I didn't realize."

"Can you remove the scars, Poppy?" Harry asked, suddenly sounding weary. The adrenaline was starting to leave his system and he found the emotional roller coaster he'd been on was finally taking its toll. Without a word she grabbed her wand and started casting diagnostic after diagnostic at the three girls in front of her.

"It might be possible," she said after several tense minutes. Harry felt a flood of relief rush through him. "These scars were made by magic though, so it will most likely be difficult and I may not be able to remove all of them."

"Can you remove Harry's?" Hermione asked.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "His would be easier, actually. They were made by normal means with no magic involved, most of them," she added, thinking of the basilisk scars and the newest one across his left shoulder from the Horntail, "so I could do that."

"No."

Everyone turned, the girls barely remembering to pull up their robes fast enough to cover their breasts, to stare at Harry.

"No?" Daphne asked.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean exactly what I said, Susan, Daphne. I'm not getting these scars removed."

Hermione was practically beside herself, trying to wring her hands together and hold her robes up at the same time. "But, Harry, why not? You could be rid of them. Wash away the stain of the Dursleys. Why wouldn't you want to get rid of those scars?"

"Because they're mine," he snapped and then took a breath and consciously lowered his voice. "They're mine," he said again. "My scars. Each and every one of them represents something that happened to _me_. Each one of them helped shape me, made me into the person I am today. Without the scars I wouldn't be the same man now. I wouldn't be the man you three love. So I'm keeping mine. But yours. They're not yours. You shouldn't have them since it didn't happen to you. You shouldn't have to deal with them.

"The Yule Ball is coming up. All three of you agreed to go with me and wouldn't you want to wear something nice? Something to show off just how beautiful you all are without letting the world see what I've done to you?"

They considered that for a moment, the three of them communicating volumes of information with a single look in a way few ever managed. As one, they nodded, and Hermione turned to face Madam Pomfrey.

"Madam," she said. "We apologize for our bonded's behavior, barging in here like this. I hope you can understand that he was distraught by learning that we'd hid that we shared his scars from him, until today, and forgive him for his behavior."

"No apology is necessary, Miss Granger," she said with a gentle smile twisting her lips. "I can only imagine how difficult and upsetting this must be."

"If you could look into getting the scars removed for us, we would appreciate that, but it is not something we would avail ourselves of any time soon."

"What?" Harry cut in. "Hermione, why not?"

"When you're ready to have your scars removed, Harry. That's when we'll get rid of ours. You say they shaped you. Well, they shaped us too. Every scar, every sting of pain we felt shaped how we felt about you, even when we didn't know who you were yet. We wouldn't be who we are today without them, without you. So, when you feel you can move on, and leave your past where it belongs, then we'll do the same. In the meantime our scars belong to all of us, and just like everything else in this relationship, we will share that burden equally."


End file.
